


Waiting For You

by mzamethystcrow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Hurt Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzamethystcrow/pseuds/mzamethystcrow
Summary: Anakin is sick and injured so Padmé finds a unique way to heal him. This is a rewrite to Sexual Healing (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2713079/1/Sexual-Healing).
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Waiting For You

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note as of 12/23/2020: It's been 15 years (!) since I wrote this and I still get notifications of readers favoriting my Star Wars fanfiction. I've been kindly pressured to finish one specific work and I may just do that, but I thought why not rewrite what I've done to get the juices flowing again? Watching The Mandalorian has helped my love for Star Wars come back to me. So, here we go. I'll start with this one, I'll likely repost it to here as well as to Archive of Our Own. The original one is here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2713079/1/Sexual-Healing
> 
> My writing style has also changed dramatically over the years and most of my work (Avengers fanfiction) can be found on Archive of Our Own. The original title for this was Sexual Healing (yes, I giggle at that, too!). I've also switched to first-person POV and stopped head hopping! It's a pet peeve of mine when authors do that and whoa, I did it myself. So, my apologies!

_**~Padmé~** _

I continue to pace around the room, my bare feet slipping across the soft patterned carpet, only stopping every minute to check the chrono on the desk. The ancient clock ticks in time with the pouring rain that pelts the window. He's been gone for more than four standard hours and I'm worried sick about him. I shouldn't be, really.

He is, after all, a Jedi. Trained in an ancient art of fighting and mindfulness, a skilled warrior.

I'm more mad at myself for letting him go out into the night in the first place, but he insisted he'd be back in an hour.

And I couldn't even get out of him why he wanted to go out in this weather except that he had something to do and he had to do it alone. It was too dangerous, I insisted. My life was in danger and wasn't he supposed to protect me at all times? That's what _he'd_ insisted upon, despite my earlier objections.

I stop when the clock hits the fifth hour, folding my arms across my chest as I stare out the window. He was also sick, damn it, and with the extremely rare and ridiculously named Speedle virus. It only affected Force-sensitive individuals apparently, somehow muting their abilities and talents as well as giving them a nasty cold. It was non-contagious to the rest of us that weren't so adept in the Force. He'd contracted the virus shortly after we'd arrived on Kathaj, the abysmal planet we were forced to take shelter on. I was desperately trying to reassure myself that he was a Jedi, even if he had temporarily lost his ability to use the Force.

My gaze slides to the lightsaber that rests on the desk and I tsk. What kind of Jedi leaves his weapon? For protection, he'd said. Before he left, he'd shown me which button to push and how to hold it, insisting that if anyone had tried to break in and attack me in this small room, they'd likely flee when faced with such an intimidating weapon.

A blaster was my choice of weapon, but so be it. It wasn't like I hadn't fought for my myself before.

I look at the chrono one more time. Another minute has passed and so I sit on the small couch. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze my hands, wringing them because I care about him more than I probably should. I cannot help it. He's possessive of me, something that I secretly like because it makes me feel safe, even though I know he probably shouldn't be. A Jedi shouldn't have attachments, but he does. He's also kind and protective of me—and only me—since the day I met him. Every time I'm around him, I find it harder and harder to keep my feelings at bay.

"Just stay calm, Padmé," I tell myself, doing exactly the opposite. "He'll be here." I fight back a yawn. I'd gone to bed during hour two, trying to find some sense of calm and failed.

I'm startled when I hear a loud thump on the door. Jumping up, I race to it, but I stop before I open it. I must compose myself, hoping to give the appearance of not being worried, if it is him.

But what if it's not Anakin? What if it's—I grab the man's lightsaber and exhale the breath I've been holding in.

"My lady, it's me."

The voice is weak, but I know it belongs to Anakin Skywalker and my fears turn to elation, because he's returned. Although, I intend to tell him that I'm angry because he didn't keep his promise to return within the hour.

I open the door, a rush of wind and rain blasting me in the face despite the overhang that shelters the entrance to the tiny apartment we rented. I expect to see Anakin with an explanation ready for me, but instead I see the bruised and bleeding body of the man that's far too dear to me on the ground.

"Anakin!" I cry, rushing out of the apartment. I crouch next to him, wanting to see if he's conscious. "Anakin, look at me. Look at me!" I yell, lifting his head. I can see blood seeping from his nose and he's bleeding from various cuts on his face. A bruise has started to form under his right eye.

My vision is wet with tears and I swipe at the ones that fall against my cheeks. I'm scared because the one person that is stronger in my life than I am in spirit and soul is hurt and I'm not sure what I can do about it.

"Damn it, don't die on me…" I sob quietly, although I know my statement is over exaggerated.

"I'm not going to die on you," Anakin says, opening his eyes to gaze at me. He tries to smile at the concern I show, but grimaces in pain instead.

"Anakin, what happened?" I ask, cradling his head.

"Help me inside, please. I'm cold and wet."

I brace Anakin's arm over my shoulders, taking on his heavy weight. I am thankful we don't have to go far, just inside the apartment. He's limping and he's favoring his weight on one side, his arm going into his robes to hold his side. He's drenched and now I'm concerned he'll catch more than just a nasty virus.

In the living room, he collapses on the couch and I frantically search the small apartment for anything that can be used to doctor his wounds. I find several clean cloths in the kitchen and a bottle of antiseptic in the bathroom. I also find a few Bacta strips. I grab a basin and fill it with water, not caring how much antiseptic I pour in and return to the living room with the supplies.

"Anakin! Wake up! Look at me…" I yell, tearing one of the cloths in half and wetting it.

"Stop shouting… I'll be alright," Anakin mumbles, pulling himself up as much as he can. He's clearly in pain.

"What happened? I was worried sick about you!" I say, sitting down next to him and leaning over him. My hand lifts to blot the cuts on his forehead but I hesitate because I know it will hurt him. "I never should have let you go out in that rain," I mumble, gathering the courage to administer what will help him.

He hisses and winces at the pain, as the antiseptic must surely sting. "It would've been worth it if I hadn't been robbed and beaten." Anakin says and his gaze drops to the neckline of my nightgown. It hadn't dawned on me that I should wear something more appropriate, but I don't care. Well, maybe a little. I'm known for what I wear and for once it's nice to wear practically _nothing_.

"Oh, Anakin!" I tsk, tearing another strip of cloth because the other one was soaked in blood. I might've torn it with a little excessive force because I'm mad, damn it.

"If I wasn't so weak because of the virus, I could have stopped all six of them—ow!" I had not so gently forced his head back so that I could clean and bandage his nose. I've also moved closer and am practically sitting on his lap.

I loom over him now and it's thrilling and I _like_ it.

"Please tell me what happened," I say softly, reigning in my anger, looking into his baby blue eyes.

"Um, well…" Anakin's gaze deepens to a dark blue and something passes behind his eyes that I don't quite catch. He takes a deep breath and palms his head. He surely has a headache. "I had just left the shop where I bought a gift for you, when I took what I thought was a shortcut to a transport. I didn't know that I was intruding on gang territory. I don't know how long I was unconscious." He winces at the pressure I put on his nose when I place a Bacta strip on it.

"A gang?" I say, and wet another strip of cloth.

"Yeah… I guess they decided it would be fun to rob me. I tried to fight back, but this virus has made me so weak and without the Force—what are you doing?"

What am I doing? Well, I'm trying to strip him of his stupid heavy Jedi robes because they are _wet_ and torn and just ridiculous. He's being stubborn and putting up resistance.

"You need to get out of these wet clothes, Anakin. I don't want you to catch a fever. Besides, I need… I need to…" My voice drifts off because he's stopped struggling with me and he's finally let me take off his vest, belt and tunic. The daft man is slowly grinning at me.

I need to keep my thoughts focused on taking care of his cuts and bruises—was he cut with a knife?!—but his well-built and muscular body is a distraction. Constant training with a lightsaber has it's advantages, clearly.

My face is flushed because I'm embarrassed. I was _not_ just staring at the defined muscles on his abdomen, was I? I must avoid all eye contact with him from this moment on.

"You need what?" His voice is slyly seductive in a way it shouldn't be, but damn if it doesn't do things to me.

"I need look at your bruises. I'm glad you weren't killed. You should have listened to me when I told you not to go out. You were gone for over four hours, Anakin," I say and place Bacta strips over several cuts and bruises on his chest and arms, noticing the way the muscles pull and flex under my fingertips.

"You're right, I should have." He lifts himself up, grabbing my chin and pulling me towards him. "Thank you, Padmé."

"You're welcome, Anakin." My voice is barely a whisper. Even in his weak and battered state, I discover I find him irresistible.

And that's dangerous.

_**~Anakin~** _

Padmé stands up, seemingly satisfied that I will be fine. I continue to stare at her while she moves about the apartment, putting away the supplies with an unnecessary haste. The thin white, almost see-through nightgown floats about her in a way that makes my fists clench because I want to strip the fucking thing off her. Her very presence is intoxicating and I lose my focus around her. It's dangerous because I need my resolve at all times in order to protect her, but I'm deeply possessive of her. She belongs to me and nothing will ever change that.

I don't need the Force to sense that I've made her nervous and because of that she's ignoring me now. When she's put everything back, she turns to face me. Our gazes clash and I can sense something else… fear?

"I'm going to bed…" Padmé manages to squeak out and quickly retires to her bedroom down the hall.

I chuckle and slowly stand up, stretching. I'm in incredible pain and I can't manage it or soothe it like I could with the Force. I feel like a Bantha has stomped all over me. I'm weak and embarrassed at my lack of self-defense without the Force. I've become too dependent on it and that angers me. I must learn to fight without it, if I have to. I do enjoy, however, Padmé's concern. I know that she'd been up waiting for me, worried. Her care and concern are just two of the reasons why I love the woman.

She just doesn't know that I do. Not yet.

Taking a deep breath, I wince at the pain. I must reign in my temper or it will lead down a path I'm not supposed to go.

Yet, I want to find a way to reclaim the gift I lost from those fucking bastards even if I have to slaughter each one of them.

I find the strips of cloth Padmé put away and gather up my robes. Pressing weight on my legs, I limp to my bedroom and wrap the cuts she missed on my hands.

I'm exhausted. Stripping off the last of my clothes, I crash on the bed imagining what Padmé must look like under that nightgown.

_**~Padmé~** _

I can't sleep. It's a hot summer on this planet and the landlord doesn't believe in temperature controlled rooms. I'd eventually tossed my nightgown to the floor and settled in the cool sheets, but I continued to toss and turn. I cannot stop thinking about what happened to Anakin. What was the gift he bought and why? Why did I let him go out in that rain in the first place? How long was he going to be sick and without use of the Force? Was he sleeping okay?

Damn it.

Frustrated, I sit up. "Shit," I say, blowing a strand a hair from my face. "This is ridiculous." Slipping from the bed, I wrap the sheet around me and tip toe out of the room. "I'm only going to check on him," I tell no one.

I quietly creep through the apartment to Anakin's room on the other side. His door is halfway open, letting me see the moonlight stream into the room. It'd stopped raining, finally. What I see takes my breath away. I step inside and wrap the sheet closer to my body.

Anakin lies on his back, his face turned away from me. The sheet just barely covers his waist, and I can clearly see he's not wearing anything underneath as I can see his hip. He moves in his sleep, the sheet moving just enough to give me more of a view and I find myself tip-toeing closer to the bed, hoping I don't make a sound.

I don't know if it's pure lust or sympathy that makes me do this, but I feel it's a bit of both as I sit down on the edge of the bed. He's in a deep sleep and doesn't wake. I take a moment to take him in. He looks so innocent, so vulnerable even though I know there is a sliver of darkness that suffers within him. He's covered in the bandages I applied and his breathing is slow and steady, his mouth open because of his broken nose.

He's beautiful.

He winces when he turns his head and drapes his arm across his chest, still asleep. I wonder if he even knows I'm in the room. Probably not, I decide, since he's lost his Force sense temporarily.

I bite my lip. I want him. This man who protects me and cares for me, always. I _want_ him. In this moment, I have ultimate power over him in this vulnerable state. It may be wrong and why it is may be dangerous, but I carefully pull myself onto the bed, taking his arm and lifting it to the side. I straddle him, the sheet still wrapped around my body. Anakin does wake then. He sleepily opens his eyes, his gaze trying to focus on me.

"Padmé? What are you—" Anakin mumbles, still half asleep.

"Shhhh…" I coo, pressing my slender finger to his lips. My smile is seductive and, brave woman that I am, I slowly let the sheet around my body drop to my waist exposing my breasts to his sleepy blue gaze.

I see the confused look on his face and a giggle slips past my lips. I lean down slowly, caressing his chest with my hands, my fingertips feathering the bandages placed there. I hear his sharp intake of breath and smile. We are just inches apart, but he's said nothing and made no effort to move. I've taken in all the features of his face and found each one perfect. I bring my hands up and cup his face.

I know exactly what I'm doing and it's that I want this, the consequences be damned.

_**~Anakin~** _

"I'll take care of you," she whispers, bringing her lips just centimeters above mine. I want her to kiss me, to make the clichéd first move, but she doesn't. She moves up instead to lightly kiss the bandage over my nose.

And I whimper. I fucking whimper.

I let out the breath I'm holding in and bring my arms up to her waist. I'm positive I'm not dreaming. My growing erection is indication enough. But why is she doing this? Padmé hasn't given any indication before that she wanted to—oh fuck, she's kissing each and every injury I sustained. It's exquisite torture, but I'm too exhausted to complain. Just when I think I can't stand this madness, she returns to my mouth and roughly claims it. I'm surprised by her wanton behavior, but I'm enjoying it. She's hungry for my taste and I'm matching her need as best as I can. Fuck, she's making me dizzy as our kisses are hot and long, our tongues making war with each other.

She stops when she hears my moan, sitting back up and looking down at the injured Jedi beneath her. One kiss and I feel like I'm on fire. She must feel my erection through the sheet beneath her. "I want to feel you inside me, Anakin."

Fuck.

I see the feral look of lust in her eyes and it makes me swallow hard, as I'm almost scared. She's pushing my arms to the side and I watch silently, as she slowly moves her hands all over her body. My breathing quickens as I watch her caress her breasts, circling each nipple. She slowly moves her hands beneath the sheet and then back to her chest. All the while, staring at me. I dare not to say anything or move.

Heat and desire radiates off her, that I don't need the Force to sense. She tells me she wanted to take this slower, but all she wants is to feel me inside her, my hands all over her body, my lips on her skin…

My heart skips a beat when she tears the sheet completely off her in one quick movement. Padmé is a determined woman and I'm too weak to put up a fight.

She lifts her body up and hurriedly pushes the sheet down from my waist, exposing me. I immediately lift my hands to circle her tiny waist, wanting to stop her. I need to explain that I've never done—

But I don't have time. Padmé is swift, planting her hands on my chest and pushing herself onto me. She cries out and I gasp, digging my fingers into her flesh. She's so tiny that the pressure is too sweet. She begins to rock back and forth, up and down slowly. Fuck, she's using her vaginal muscles to squeeze me with each lift.

I think I'm going to die. It's agonizing bliss. Padmé increases her pace, lifting herself up and down, causing her hair to bounce about her shoulders.

It's so fucking beautiful.

When I hear my woman moan, I take control. I lift my hips and thrust more forcefully into her with each of her movements. She continues to squeeze me, letting her head fall back. She bites her lower lip and runs her fingers through her hair and it just makes me harder.

Padmé is going to rip my building orgasm right out of my body, something I've never truly experienced before. A Jedi shouldn't feel this attached to pleasure but oh fuck, I can't, I can't, I can't accept that this is wrong. She doesn't seem to notice nor care what her squeezing technique is doing to me. The absolutely wonderful pain is becoming unbearable, so I let out a groan with each thrust and increase the pace even more. I gather enough strength to lift my back off the bed and let my hands and mouth roam over her body.

She's addictive. I can't get enough of her. I suckle and tease each nipple with my tongue, causing her to whimper. She grabs me by my hair and jerks me up to her mouth, bumping my nose and causing me to whimper.

We devour each other, continuing our mating rhythm.

_**~Padmé~** _

The sensation of Anakin's hands caressing my body sends me over the edge. The feeling of the rough cloths from his bandaged hands on my breasts drives me wild. He's teased and tasted me with unbridled passion. I close my eyes, only wanting to _feel_.

My orgasm hits and I scream into his mouth, pushing my hands against his chest. Breaking the deep kiss, I push him back against the bed. My breath is knocked right out of me and I hear my lover's strangled cry. Opening my eyes, I watch as his own pleasure hits him, his head thrown back as each wave crashes into him. He cries out and I gasp, his seed filling my empty womb.

A grin pulls against my lips and I lean down, my breasts flush against his chest. I'm satisfied in a way I can't explain. My heart races, not only because of what we've just done, but because I know it's completely forbidden.

I'm exhausted and can barely open my eyes and I know he must be, too. His breathing is deep, he shudders, and I wonder if he's suddenly asleep. It's alright because I'm just as content to lie against his chest and not move. He's still embedded deep inside me, but I don't care. We are drenched in sweat and the scent of our lovemaking permeates the hot, muggy air.

When his breathing returns to normal, I lean up and rest my chin on my hands studying his face. I still find him beautiful, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, with all his cuts and bruises. They'll take a while to heal, to fade.

"I love you," I whisper, because I do. I love this man who is wholly possessive and protective of me. He carries a darkness within him and I've come to accept that, although I know I shouldn't. It's a darkness that's needed in this time of war and crisis, even if others would say it'll lead down a dark path.

He smiles at me, his eyes still closed, and I know he's not asleep. "What was the gift you bought me?" I say, curiosity needling at me.

His blue orbs are staring at me now, deep in their color and darkened by desire. He grabs the sheet at the end of the bed and pulls it up, not moving me off of him. He sighs in what must be content, wrapping his arms around me. I do the same, but I wrap my face against his chest, the warmth and steady beat of his heart calming any fears I have that this isn't right.

I'm just about to ask my question again, when he answers.

"A ring of engagement, my lady."


End file.
